Bad Things Happen To Good People
by Kalyara
Summary: Jackson had told Lisa that bad things happened to good people. Can she save herself from what bad things Jackson will do to her when he finally gets his hands on her? Or will she be unable to escape his grip on her?


**Bad Things Happen to Good People**

.:..:.

Lisa sat quietly on her tan sofa in her apartment, watching the news. Which once again, displayed another story about the Lux Atlantic Bombing. And again, Lisa was angered by seeing that the world was asking whether or not she had been involved in the assassination on Charles Keefe and his family. Unable to watch any more of the outrageous story on the television, she lifted up the remote, and clicked the 'off' button. The TV switched from a falsely cheery news reporter, to a blank screen.

Getting up off her cushioned seat, she walked over to the counter where she found a coupon for a hair salon. _I wonder if I changed my appearance, people might stop staring at me? _She curiously thought, picking up the small paper, pinching it between her fingers. It was early in the morning, and it was the fourth night in a row without any sleep. She had been waking up in a cold sweat for the last month, and the nightmare jolting her awake had always been Jackson Rippner's ice-cold, mercilessness, stunning blue eyes. It had been a month since Jackson had been released from the hospital. The bastard had survived the bullet wounds to his chest, which should have been fatal.

He had been cleared of all charges of the Lux Atlantic Bombing, since the police had not found any evidence linking him to the plot. She had grown sick when she found out from the police, that the phone she stole from Jackson had been registered under _her _name, and that there had never been a record of a _Jackson Rippner_. No files on him whatsoever. No birth certificate, no death certificate, no license, _nothing _to prove his existence.

Surprisingly though, Lisa had been expecting nothing less. After all, she didn't really believe "Jackson" to be his true name in the first place. The thought of him roaming the same streets she did as a free man, made her stomach twist into hundreds of painful knots.

She started to think. Maybe it wouldn't hurt to get a make-over...just to help disguise herself in case a certain someone decided to stop by for a nice little chat. She hated to think about changing her natural colored, auburn hair, but knew it might be for the best if she was not as easily recognized.

The police had offered her police protection, but she had refused it. If Jackson was going to come after her, he would get to her even with the cops around. Men in uniforms and armed with guns was not about to stop an experienced killer from obtaining his prize. It would take the entire world to take this man down.

Taking a pair of scissors out of the kitchen drawer, Lisa began to cut along the dotted lines of the coupon. After she had neatly freed the coupon from the article, she picked up the phone that was cradled in the receiver and dialed the hair salon's number.

"Chez Martine Hair Salon, this is Jean-Paul, what can I do for you?"A man's voice echoed through the receiver, his low tone sounding bored with the job of answering telephones given to him. His french accent was thicker than that of fine honey.

"Yes, I would like to come in to get a haircut and add some color to it, sometime this morning, if possible." Lisa leaned against the counter, her back turned towards the cold kitchen wall. The sooner the appointment, the safer she knew she would feel. Not that a little color and loss of length would do much in protection...

"Okay, we don't have anyone coming in until about three..." He informed her.

"How about if I come in around ten or so?"She knew there was no rush to getting there, but she might as well get it over with as quickly as possible. Steeling a quick side glance at the clock hanging on the wall, she noted it was already about nine thirty.

"That is perfect."He informed her. Lisa was walking up the stairs, wanting to get out of the house at first chance. Ever since the Red Eye flight, the chilling walls of her home gave her an imprisoning feeling. As of recently, Lisa had acquired the phobia of closed spaces. Even more afraid of her own bathroom.

She knew that Jackson knew where she lived and knew every little piece of furniture in her house. Knew her normal day routine, every little expression or smile she gave to everyone. The past month, she had been trying to do things differently, and had been getting out of her house more.

"OK, can I have your name?" She heard the faint tapping sound of the keyboard from the other line. And his voice had changed from bored to almost ecstatic in just a few beats. She guessed probably because she had just given him something to do for an hour.

"Lisa Reisert." She said, thinking better of it when the last syllable slipped out through her lips. The news had not been so kind to poor broken down Lisa Reisert lately. _  
_

To her relief, he told her it was all set up and he hung up. He didn't sound like he knew her from all the lies that had been told about her on the news.

Slipping into a pair of light blue jeans that had faded over time and been torn through the abuse she put them through, and a navy t-shirt, she grabbed her small purse with one last look at her reflection in the mirror before walking out of her apartment. The past few days seemed to be looking up, but with her luck, she knew it would soon be lost.

* * *

Just as she had told Jean-Paul, Lisa arrived at the run down hair salon, assigned the french name, Chez Martine. From the looks of it, she assumed that it didn't get very much business. The chipped blue paint on the outside was washed away from all the weather damage, and the windows were caked in dirt. Inside, she found it in similar condition. The furniture small, and the walls dressed in grey, though you could clearly tell that they had once been white and seen better days.

A smiling man walked around from behind the front desk, motioning his hand to where she could see a chair, large mirror, and a few hair supplies sitting on a small wooden table. He was tall, and handsome in a way. His face was sunken in to the extreme, his skin pale and fair. Dark hair with blue eyes, which for a second, almost sent her into a panic attack.

"Lisa Reisert, I presume?" He cheerfully asked. It was nice to be treated like a normal person again. Since her forced fame, people didn't look at her the same. Mothers would grab their children's small hands and force them to the other side, men would take one look at her and walk the other way. Every where she went, she could feel the boring eyes glaring at her from all directions.

"Yes, and you must be Jean-Paul." She had a little trouble remembering how he pronounced his name.

"That's me. Well, how would you like your hair done today?" Jean-Paul followed Lisa to the small chair. When she sat down, she almost chocked at how much dust surrounded her in a thick cloud.

"Um...Just give me something new. Something much different then now. I was thinking maybe blond would look okay one me?" It took a lot to manage to say every word without sneezing from suffocating dust.

"OK. Lets start with the color." He told her, starting to look around the room for the die. "Let me go check in the back, what shade of blond were you thinking? Bleached or more golden?" Jean-Paul asked as he walked to the back of the room, where Lisa lost sight of him.

"Maybe a bleached blond!" Lisa yelled in the direction of the back room.

"That sounds good, feel free to read a magazine or something. I will only take a minute." He shouted, still hidden.

Lisa searched around the room with her green eyes, trying to see where the magazines were. Seeing some sitting on a shelf across from her, Lisa got up from her dust chamber, browsing through the covers of each magazine. There was a choice of either a _Home Depot_ edition, _Time Magazine_, or the traditional _People Magazine_. She picked up the _People _magazine, examining the cover displaying _Jen breaks her silence _in large, bold letters and a picture of Jennifer Aniston. It was at least three months old, but Lisa took it anyways. Finally returning to her seat, she flipped open the cover.

For a few minutes she read, not paying much attention to her surroundings, which wasn't much more than dust. Her fascination was caught on a certain article about, "Dealing with the past." She found it very suitable for her to come across. After all, she had wanted some kind of advice about how to get over everything. Even the horrible day when she had been attacked in the parking lot would not pass. And it had been almost two and a half years since that event.

When she had finally gotten to the point where she stopped having nightmares about her rape, Jackson had come along and started the cycle over again. Nightmare after nightmare, day after day, she looked over her shoulder, expecting to see him there.

She heard Jean-Paul walk back into the room, but didn't bother to glance up. Lisa was too absorbed in her reading. So instead, she let him comb through her already untangled hair. She didn't think much about what he was doing until she realized he had stopped brushing her hair and was now using his hands to play with her hair instead. It made her a little uncomfortable, but she just assumed that it was part of his job. She justified the gesture as just a way to determine what nest to do. Or at least that was what she thought until the smooth, warm hand inched its way to her cheek, caressing her very gently.

"Past still bothering you, Leese?" The cold, raspy voice whispered. She felt her heart skip a few beats, and her body go stiff. She was frozen to the chair, incapable of doing anything, not even able to let out the faintest of screams. Just the sound of the familiar tone was enough to send her spiraling to her death.

Feeling her stiffen and tense, Jackson decided to have some fun with his prisoner. Slowly and gently, he massaged the shoulders of his terrified captive. Leaning in close to her ear, he began to whisper to her, his voice dangerously low.

"Our last visit wasn't so great, was it?" He sardonically asked, she could hear the apparent anger in his icy voice, and knew it was only a matter of time before he would finish her off. She couldn't get herself to do anything about the situation, her feet melded to the floor boards by her own fear.

Moving only her eyes, she peeked at the table next to her. She saw several different scissors, and other hair supplies. The thought of being stabbed by them made her stomach weak. As much as she wanted to reach out and grab the scissors, her mind was still trapped in the fear induced trance.

Snapping her hand out as quickly as she could, she stretched for the sharp, serrated blades. Jackson was quicker, however, and he grabbed hold of her wrists, forcing them down to her side. His iron grip on her hurt, forcing her to let out a high pitched shriek.

"Tsk. Tsk. You bad girl." He scolded cruelly, his cheek against her own. She could feel him flex his jaw, and a painful shiver ran down her spine, making her cringe and pull away from him. Unfortunately for Lisa, pulling away only gave Jackson more power over her. He pressed his face harder to hers, forcing her head against the back of the rough fabric covered chair.

"Any pens hidden in your pockets?" He wickedly mocked, chuckling under his breath when he heard her whimper. "Is that a yes?" He softly asked.

"No!" She screamed almost too quickly, horrified at suddenly being in this mans presence once again. And the thought of him patting her down to see if she had a pen on her person - and he clearly knew she didn't - was absolutely terrifying.

"Do I make you nervous? You shouldn't be..." He knew he did more than just that, but he enjoyed it too much to see her cower and suffer. "Huh?"

"Let me go, please." Lisa pleaded, her voice almost nothing. If Jackson hadn't been as close as he was, he probably wouldn't have caught it at all.

"I don't think so." He hissed angrily, spinning the chair around to force her to face him. Jackson quickly sat on top of her thighs, making escape an impossible task. He slowly unsheathed his favorite knife - 12-inch KaBar - and placed the blade on Lisa's collarbone.

She was beginning to tear up now, and her entire body trembled. Feeling her shaky figure only made him more satisfied.

"You don't really think that I was just going to leave you alone, did you?" Jackson cruelly asked. "Especially after what you did?"

She was afraid and too scared to answer. It angered him, but he would make her talk. With his other hand, he gripped Lisa's face, squeezing so hard that she started to scream in pain. His nails left crescent marks in her flesh, the color of crimson red.

"During the flight, I would have loved it if you were this quiet and compliant." He seethed hoarsely. "But now, would be an excellent time to talk. Maybe even beg a little." His hot breath cascaded across her cheeks, chills erupting along her back.

Lisa said nothing. What was the point of even trying? Jackson was here for one thing, and one thing only. Revenge. And Jackson planned on getting what he came for. However he might choose to carry out his vendetta.

"Please..." Lisa tried again hopelessly, eager to live. Then, Jean-Paul smashed a fist into Jackson's head, knocking him off Lisa and to the ground.Lisa's heart fluttered with hope at the sight of Jean-Paul still breathing.Up until now, she had never even thought of him. Her mind had been so busy putting together a plan to escape and coping with the fear of Jackson's sudden appearance that she had not even considered the fact that Jackson might have killed the hair dresser.

Jackson moaned a little, pushing himself up off the tiled floor. Wasting no time, Lisa bolted from her seat to the front door. Crashing into it hard, frantically clawing at the door handle. It wouldn't budge, and she could hear the shouts and shuffling bodies of Jackson and Jean-Paul fighting. Barely breathing, Lisa spun around on the heel of her foot, searching for a phone.

Moving around the front desk, she picked up the phone, putting it to her ear. There was no dial tone. Hurrying to come up with a plan, Lisa remembered seeing a payphone in the back of the salon when she was driving in.

There it was, on the other side of the room tucked behind a chair. A back door, which appeared to cracked opened. The only thing stopping her from rushing to it, was the two men battling between her and the door.

Jean-Paul appeared to have the upper hand, forcing Jackson slowly down on his knees and onto the ground. Jackson held back Jean-Paul's hand which clenched the knife tightly. Taking her chances, Lisa darted for the door.

Spotting Lisa from the corner of his eye, Jackson fought a little harder, gradually forcing Jean-Paul away from his body. Both men were sweating, and fighting for their lives, and in a way, fighting for Lisa. Jean-Paul didn't have to knock Jackson off of Lisa, but he did. Jackson was fighting, because he refused to let his captive get away from him once again.

Finally getting a strong footing, Jackson used all of his weight to shove Jean-Paul off of him and threw him against the wall behind Jean-Paul. The knife fell to the floor, and in one last attempt to stop Jackson, Jean-Paul kicked it across the room where it slid under a counter. Grabbing Jean-Paul by the head, he slammed it into the wall, knocking the man unconscious. He didn't have time to deal with him, not while Lisa was still running, still fighting.

Lisa screamed in horror as she turned her head to see Jackson knock out the man who had just saved her life. The knife skidded past her, almost nicking her in the foot. Determination kept her running.

If the knife had landed closer to her and not so far away, she would have grabbed it. But the padded sounds of Jackson's footsteps behind her told her to keep going and not to stop.

Roughly ripping the door open, she tried to step out as quickly as she could. Only to have her one way out of this nightmare shut seconds after it had been opened by a stretched out arm. With a following bash against the metal door, knocking the wind out of her. She began to slide down to the floor which was caked with dirt, and Jackson grasped her face in the palm of his hand, smashing her head against the metal surface behind her.

"NO!" Lisa shouted, and for a dizzy second, all she could see was dark splotches. She felt him shove her to the floor, and just as her sight came back, he was on top of her, straddling her by the hips with his hands pinning her wrists above her head. Kicking her legs as hard as she could she tried to throw Jackson off of her. Her desperate attempts failed her. Jackson moved his body down on top of her thighs, ceasing her frantic kicking.

"Stop fighting me, Lisa! It wont get you anywhere!" Jackson scolded her harshly. She watched his frown form into an unmistakable smirk. "Obviously...it hasn't got you anywhere in the past but here. Trapped underneath me unable to do anything but beg for your _fucking life_." He snarled through clenched teeth, his crystalline eyes burning with hate for the trapped woman.

"Get off of me!" She shouted, her voice cracking. He quickly took both fragile wrists in his one hand and clamped a hand over her mouth. Peering over his shoulder at the heap on the floor and seeing Jean-Paul still unconsciousness, he turned back to Lisa, pressing his lips against ear.

"Sssh, Leese...we wouldn't want to alert any innocent soul. I really don't like killing more people than I have to." He sneered, his voice dangerously low and laced with poison.

More frightened whimpers came from the woman underneath him, and he felt her body start to tremble once again. Scanning the floor over at where he had seen the knife land, he saw it buried in a pile of hair. Thinking of how to get to it without letting Lisa go, he felt her start to wriggle under his body. She threw her head to the side, forcing Jackson's hand off of her mouth. Allowing her to breathe better than when he had his hand over her face. Jerking a hand free from his grasp, Lisa smashed it into his face.

He tumbled off of her, rubbing his bruised jaw. Watching her scramble to her feet, Jackson swiped the knife from the dirty floor. He began to chase after her.

Knowing she was headed towards the wrong door, Lisa knew that she couldn't stop now. Not with Jackson holding a knife and pursuing her.

She ran for a flight of stairs she could see hidden in a coat of darkness. Darting up them, taking three or four at a time, she struggled to get away from Jackson. But he took the stairs ten times faster.

Snagging Lisa by the waist, he tossed her into the stairs, pinning her once again under his body weight.

"Help!" She managed to yell before having Jackson cover her mouth a final time.

"Quiet! Lisa!" He threatened as he caught his breath, pressing the blade of his knife to her flesh with brute force. It didn't break skin, but that was what surprised Lisa. That he hadn't already killed her. Her thoughts raced as she hoped he would kill her fast. She feared he wouldn't be satisfied without making her suffer as long as possible.

She felt him take his hand from her mouth and move down to her chin, again squeezing so hard it made her yelp in agony. Jackson took the knife, quickly dragging the blade across her cheek. Blood surfaced quickly and trickled down her face. Lisa screamed again as pain overwhelmed her whole left side of her face. Biting hard into his hand, he let go, cursing under his breath.

Grabbing her face again, - this time making sure to grab a little higher - his fingers clasped onto her cheek right where the open cut was. He held her face to his painfully. Again, Lisa screamed in pain, the heat of his hand stinging her fresh wound.

"Why are you doing this?!" She yelled at the top of her lungs, her chest heaving up and down heavily. Teardrops fell from her closed eyes.

He laughed, thinking of how to address her question. The silent pause he gave her was enough for Lisa, but he continued to drag out the torture and never ending agony. To him, Lisa Reisert was his forever.

"Because, Lisa...sometimes bad things, happen to good people."Jackson Rippner darkly whispered to his victim, a crooked smile glowing across his venomous lips.

* * *

_I am soooo sorry I left you guys for so long, but I am now determined to keep my stories updated and entertaining. I decided to end this story where it is and I would love your guys reviews for it. I went through and edited it as much as possible to try and make this more appealing to all of you, but if I missed something just let me know. And on my other story "We'll Talk Again" I plan on going back through and editing all of the chapters before I continue so it might be a minute before I post another chapter to that. But I will put more stories up for you guys. Thanks for keeping with me and reading my work. Love you guys! - Kalyara  
_


End file.
